


The de Veres

by I_just_want_to_read_and_write



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-07-25 02:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16188284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_just_want_to_read_and_write/pseuds/I_just_want_to_read_and_write
Summary: Auguste, Laurent and Nicaise de Vere are all admitted to Artes Mental Health Hospital after the truth of what had been happening under their Uncle's guardian care came out.Damen is a psychiatrist at the hospital and is determined to help them get their lives on track whether they want it or not.After a while, though, Damen realises he needs a different tactic to get through to Laurent.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic based about mental health issues in modern society. It has many references to depression, self harm, rape, eating disorders, etc.  
> Please take care of yourselves, if you think you may be at risk of being triggered by any of these things, use caution.   
> I've researched these matters a lot and have experienced a few myself so I'm hoping to give accurate depictions. That being said, I will make adjustments to fit the story line.  
> I hope you enjoy!

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, brute,” Nicaise said, so sweetly that Damen almost missed the insult.

“Come on, Nikky,” Damen tried not to smile as the teenager scrunched his nose at the nickname, “I saw you slip the knife up your sleeve before you left the lunch room, the only reason why I waited ‘till you were out in the hall was because I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“You are obviously seeing things,” he sneered, standing very still. Damen had learnt that that was his only tell to lying, standing so still to not give away any ticks. Laurent did the same. Auguste was too honest for such skill. “From that hulking height it’s amazing you see anything past the clouds, much less utensils that may or may not go missing.”

Damen leant up against the wall, trying to seem less imposing. For all Nicaise’s snark, he’d just let on that he was feeling intimidated, whether he knew it or not. Damen wouldn’t budge on this though, “You know I can’t let you go back into your room with a knife. It’s not safe.”

Nicaise smirked, “For me or for you?”

“For anyone,” Damen replied evenly.

Nicaise attempted a different tactic, “Perhaps it was a trick of the light and it actually fell on the floor. You should go check, in case someone hurts themselves on it.”

Damen ignored him, trying not to be offended. He’d seen him come up with much better lies than that so he was probably under the impression that Damen wasn’t worth the effort. “You need to give me the knife, Niciase, or I’ll have to take it from you,” Damen usually wouldn’t jump to physically overpowering someone, especially someone from the PTSD ward, but this detour already had him running late for an appointment. If he didn’t have a session with Nicaise’s older brother, Auguste, Damen probably would have just sat in the hall with him until he got so bored he gave up the knife himself. 

“I don’t give you permission to touch me,” Nicaise smugly countered, but there was a fragile edge to his voice that suggested he didn’t really believe it would be enough to keep Damen away from him.

It broke Damen’s heart but he had to tell the truth, “I don’t need your permission if it concerns your safety or life,” Damen continued when Nicaise paled, “I can call someone to witness me pat you down, if you don’t feel safe.”

The boy’s bloodless lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl, “What, so you can both have a turn?”

Damen sighed. As far as he could tell, there was no one else in the hospital that Nicaise felt comfortable enough to touch him. Except his brothers. That wouldn’t be fair to anyone in the situation, though, there was enough conflict of interest as it was when all three brothers had been court appointed to the same ward with the same group sessions. It would hurt Auguste too much to see his youngest sibling hiding a knife on his person with few innocent options of use he had in mind. Laurent would probably show the only emotion he allowed, anger, which while it may cause Nicaise to give up the knife without a scene, it would spur both of them into a spitefulness to be taken out on the other patients for, at best, the rest of the day, at worst, the rest of the week. And it was only Tuesday. 

Damen debated. Bluffing wasn’t a conflict of interest. So long as you squinted and tilted your head to the left.

“Would you rather me get Laurent to come and retrieve the knife?”

Nicaise glanced to the door of the lunch room where Laurent was currently pretending to eat. He did not seem enthused by the idea.

“Or,” Damen offered, “you can give it to me and I won’t tell him or Auguste about it.” There was no way Damen would tell them either, patient confidentiality and that, but Nicaise didn’t need to know that.

“Fine,” Nicaise snarled and threw the knife at the floor, strutting back to his room in a huff.

“I’m going to organise for another session for you and Pallas tomorrow instead of in three days time.” 

The only response Damen received was the middle finger over the boy’s shoulder. Damen smiled and wondered when his life became so strange that surviving a battle of wills against a fourteen year old would be a win.

 

Damen loved Auguste like a brother. He was fun loving, loyal, smart, enjoyed physical pursuits much like Damen did, and loved his brothers to the moon and back. They’d gotten along like a house on fire the moment they met in the first therapy session he’d scheduled and Auguste was able to open up about his traumas without the first day jitters patients usually had. 

It was because of Auguste’s relaxed nature that Damen was shocked about his experiences. Auguste had served in Iraq for seven years, deployed almost straight out of highschool due to the amount of potential he had. But what had really effected him was the night he came home.

Auguste had explained to Damen that he’d come home due to a mental health break that was long overdue and kept it secret from his Uncle and brothers to surprise them. He’d arrived a little late in the night but the upstair lights were on so Auguste had taken the key from under the pot plant, thinking about how unsafe it was there, and let himself it. He could hear murmurs from upstairs so he opened up the video on his phone and crept toward them, hoping to catch a happy moment on camera. 

What Auguste had caught on camera was his Uncle molesting Nicaise while Laurent, tied up, was forced to watch.

A long drawn out court process had them all admitted to the Artes Mental Health Hospital for PTSD with high chances of self harm or suicide whilst Regent de Vere awaited trial. Auguste had argued at first that it was not him that was hurt, he’d was not the one who needed help. After a week with Damen he was able to admit that, yes, he was betrayed in this situation as well and that the shock would not have helped his health after coming back from war. 

It was never the war that Auguste wanted to talk about. He always just wanted to rehash out the night, as if he said it enough times, it would eventually leave his memory and stay in Damen’s.

“Uncle was speaking to Laurent but the words made no sense, he must have been crazy-” the court had so far said that Regent de Vere was of sound mind but Damen made no comment, “-telling Laurent that he was disgusting for growing up and getting hair and starting to like it, whatever ‘it’ was. And then he said to Nicaise, ‘You won’t come, will you? You’re too much of a good boy, you’re too pure.’ It just made no sense.” Auguste ran his hands roughly through his short hair, “It’s not like Laurent would have enjoyed it, would he? Wouldn’t that make him like…” 

“When Laurent was assaulted he was very young and not of the ability to consent. He was also heavily manipulated and brainwashed by his Uncle when he was groomed into the situation,” Damen explained patiently as he did every other session, “It doesn’t matter what reactions Laurent had to the abuse at that age because he was too heavily influenced by his only guardian to have understood what was happening. Many victims will be confused about their feelings toward their rapist, especially if they are a child who already trusts the adult. This does not make Laurent perverse in anyway.”

“Of course not, of course not,” Auguste was already muttering under his breath, before Damen had finished. He felt guilty about voicing such things but Damen knew he was just worried that his Uncle had caused damage in Laurent that would never be fixed. He felt guilty to have left them in his Uncle’s care to begin with but Damen had assured him, time and time again, that it was not selfish that he, an eighteen year old at the time, had not taken custody of his seven and thirteen year old brothers when he had a living adult relative that they had trusted.

Auguste always nodded, but he always brought it up again the next session.

 

“Laurent de Vere is the most obnoxious little arsehole that has ever been born!” Nikandros seethed as he stomped into the break room after his one on one sessions.

“He told you everything you were doing wrong again, didn’t he?” Damen tried to hide his smirk in his sandwich. 

“Of course he did! And stop looking so pleased about it!” Nikandros threw himself down next to Pallas and stole Damen’s coffee, “ ‘You’re asking too many leading questions, you’re making assumptions based on facial expressions, you’re an idiot’,” Nikandros mimicked.

Damen tried not to laugh. Laurent was his favourite of the de Veres despite him only speaking to snipe at someone. 

Despite everything that was happening at home, Laurent had managed to do an accelerated course and had almost attained a PhD in Psychology before being admitted, something he used to his advantage in almost every way, including annoying his personal psychiatrist, Nikandros. Laurent did not want to speak about his experiences nor his disinterest in eating and there was no tactic they could use that Laurent didn’t know back to front. 

It was something that Damen had not yet encountered before, giving therapy to someone who was much more well versed in the art of Psychology. He’d had patients who didn’t want to get better, patients who just wanted to go home, patients who didn’t want to leave, patients that had been in therapy for such a long time that they knew the drill. 

But Laurent de Vere was all of those things and more. 

Damen was amazed everytime Laurent outsmarted him in not speaking during group sessions, only realising what he’d done when another patient had started their turn.

Nikandros thought Damen’s awe came from him being blonde haired and blue eyed but Damen didn’t agree. It was more the way Laurent would avoid his brothers like the plague but watch their every movement with with a protective expression on his face whenever he thought no one was watching.

Damen suspected Laurent was enough like Auguste to be so fiercely loyal it led to guilt.

“If he’s so much better than me, why does he need counseling? He could just make himself better,” Nikandros continued to sulk.

“You know why,” Pallas frowned at him. He felt deeply for the de Veres despite dealing with the most caustic one. “He doesn’t want to get better because he feels like he doesn’t deserve it,” Pallas shook his head sadly, “That poor family. Nicaise is still so thoroughly under his uncle’s spell I think they were still in contact if it weren’t impossible. He must’ve been a true sociopath.”

“Auguste has mentioned that he now remembers his uncle being close with many little boys he had no reason to be. He sounds like a serial offender,” Damen agreed.

“I hope he rots in hell,” Nikandros said, for once, feeling kindly to Laurent. 

“I just hope the brothers make it out of this without falling apart,” Damen murmured.


	2. Chapter 2

Laurent had been staring at his soup for ten minutes when Damen sat down next to him with his own plate. Their sides brushed very slightly and Damen slouched in his seat.

Laurent looked up, arching an unimpressed eyebrow, “Disarming technique.”

Damen paused, confused, before he realised he sat down beside him instead of infront. Which actually was a disarming technique, just one Damen hadn’t intended on using. He grinned, “Nah, that’s what my smile is for.”

Laurent’s eyes flickered to his dimple before rolling his eyes back to his bowl. A dismissal. Damen chose to ignore it. 

“You know, it’s not poisoned,” Damen said, demonstrating by taking a sip of his own soup.

Laurent’s face curled in disgust, “Why are you even eating right now? Don’t you get paid enough to afford your own lunch?” 

“I thought you might be self-conscious eating by yourself so I came over to give you some company,” Damen took another sip and watched as Laurent stirred his spoon in the bowl, absentmindedly. 

“I’d prefer anyone else's company than a huge buffoon like you,” Damen noticed he didn’t make comment on feeling self-conscious.

“Okay,” Damen said, agreeably, “I can get Nikandros to come over instead-” he pointed over Laurent’s shoulder. Nikandros, in hearing distance, frantically shook his head, abruptly stopping when Laurent turned around.

“He doesn’t seem to find that agreeable.”

Damen scowled at his best friend for being unprofessional but continued to wheedle Laurent, “I could ask one of the patients over, you could make friends.”

The man chucked his blond braid over his shoulder, momentarily distracting Damen, “They are already too afraid of me.”

This was true. When Laurent and Nicaise were originally admitted to the hospital they’d been cruel to the others, finding their weak points and ruthlessly exploiting them. Nikandros had been furious about so many of the patients declining back weeks in progress. Damen was a little more sympathetic when he noticed that they only targeted people who looked able to physically overpower them.

“Many of the people here are scared of everyone. Just as you are,” Damen answered instead. He took another bite of soup and watched Laurent watch him swallow. Damen continued, “The only other options are your brothers.”

Boy, was that the wrong thing to say, judging by the wintry look cast in his direction. 

He should have know. Artes was a very small hospital and people were generally in each others pockets all the time. It was only natural for Laurent to have grouped in with his brothers for support; instead each brother avoided each other like one was a murderer and they didn’t know who. Or, Damen corrected, Nicaise and Laurent avoided each other and Auguste, while Auguste tried to repair things to no avail. 

In Damen’s sessions with him, he’d admitted to thinking they hated him for leaving them.

Damen thought otherwise. Each party seemed to be holding a massive amount of guilt. In Auguste it came out in nightmares, in Nicaise it came out in self-harm and being overtly sexual in inappropriate ways, and in Laurent, he denied himself food and physical contact. 

“I guess you’re stuck with me then,” Damen finished in the silence.

Laurent made a non-commital noise.

“You know, we won’t think less of you for actually using this time to get help,” Damen reached out to touch his shoulder, stopped when Laurent flinched back.

“I’m fine,” Laurent snapped, getting up to leave. 

“If you’re so fine, eat that whole bowl and I’ll let you out of group therapy this afternoon,” Damen challenged.

Laurent frowned, “What kind of tactic is that?”

“What?”

“What manipulation is that? I haven’t read it,” it seemed to pain Laurent in admitting he didn’t know something.

“It’s not a manipulation,” Damen looked into his pale blue eyes, two other matching sets sitting in different corners of the room. “It’s just the way it works. If I think you don’t need as much help, you don’t need to have as much therapy,” Damen shrugged, “Simple.” Something Laurent should know, himself, from his studies.

Laurent stood very still, eyes on the bowl in his hands, debating. In a flurry of movement he sat back down gracefully, his jacket grazing Damen’s arm. Damen tried not to look too invested as Laurent picked his spoon up, so he started eating again as well. 

In the corner of his eye, Damen saw Laurent take a small bite of his soup. His face tensed, shoulders curving inward and when Damen followed his eyes, he saw Nicaise watching curiously from the other side of the room. Laurent’s throat constricted as he swallowed, as if he were eating razor blades. 

“It’s cold,” he muttered, and in a flash was out the door, soup flung in the bin on his way. 

 

Laurent showed up at group therapy. 

As Nicaise walked passed him to his own seat, late as always, he muttered, “I don’t care if you get fat, you know.”

Damen winced at the wording, waiting for Laurent to let a similar insult fly. It was rare that they spoke enough to cause an argument but when they did it was incredibly volatile; Laurent pulled no punches for his younger brother and Damen could understand why; when Nicaise went after someone with similar intellect he was ferocious. He was excellent at picking at Laurent’s weak spots, somehow always airing their dirty laundry where Auguste could hear them. 

This time, though, Laurent just watched his back, as he walked the rest of the way to his seat by the window, with a considering expression.

It occurred to Damen that that might have been Nicaise’s way of offering support, as convoluted as it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, let me know in the comments what you thought!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damen get's a look into the night life of the de Vere brothers. It's more than he originally expected.

Two weeks later, Damen found himself stuck in a hallway with Lazar on the night shift. He’d just been about to leave, already imagining a night of chinese takeaway and vegging on the couch, when Jokaste called him, begging him to take her shift tonight because she’d been vomiting all day.

Nikandros had rolled his eyes, saying she was probably too busy fucking Kastor and why the hell would Damen do “that bitch” a favour anyway.

Sadly, Damen knew what she sounded like when she was lying, and this was not one of those times.

Besides, Damen reasoned, what was the harm? The night shift was usually a boring affair, staff only on hand for emergencies; the likelihood that he and Lazar would do nothing more than play cards in the hallway all night was high. And Damen had regularly pulled all nighters in university so he was sure that he’d be fine for tomorrow. Nikandros pointed out that he wasn’t nineteen anymore but Damen chose to ignore him when he was being negative.

“Go to bed, Nicaise,” Lazar was saying, as Damen arrived, scoffing down a leftover sandwich from the lunch room as his dinner.

Nicaise was standing entirely too close to Lazar to be considered normal and reached out to take Lazar’s hand, “Why don’t you take me to bed?’ he purred, in a tone that was not meant for a fourteen year old to use.

Lazar tucked his hands behind his back, casually removing them from Nicaise’s reach. Damen realised that this must be a regular occurrence and made note to mention it to Pallas. “I don’t think Lazar appreciates your advances, Nicaise,” Damen told him, not unkindly.

“He just needs to be shown how to have fun,” Nicaise laughed, a high tinkling sound, “That’s what Uncle used to say about Laurent.”

Damen tried not to wince, knowing Nicaise just wanted a reaction.

Damen had spent lunch with Laurent everyday for two weeks now and he’d made no progress in getting him to eat. The man was now gaunt, his already wraith figure becoming even more sickly.

He did manage to have some conversations with Damen while they sat together, though it was never anything personal. They discussed their favourite books, movies that they’d seen, which theorists they personally thought were crazy themselves and, once, that Laurent spoke with a French accent because he’d grown up in the countryside of France until his parents had died. It was left unsaid that they moved to Australia to be with their Uncle. Despite the barbs that were flung carelessly into the conversation, Damen found the middle child of the de Vere family to be quite charming.

When Nicaise realised neither Damen nor Lazar had any intention of answering to that comment, he rolled his eyes and stomped back to his room. Door 27, Damen noted.

“Does this happen every night?” Damen asked, though he suspected the answer already.

Lazar shrugged, unconcerned, “Not always me. Sometimes it’s another man on duty or a patient. He leaves the women alone though.”

Damen sighed and began his task of listening out for anyone in need of help.

 

It was only three hours later that Damen was jolted out of the stupor that had him staring blankly at the walls. He’d gotten too tired to play cards half an hour ago and made Lazar promise not to tell Nik that he was right in saying Damen had gotten to old for this. Even if he was only twenty five, he’d gotten into the habit of going to bed at nine o’clock for to be able to cope with his eight to six shift the next day. Starting another shift at the time Damen would usually be settling down for bed, with the knowledge that the next time he’d sleep would have to be the next night, was proving more difficult than Damen had anticipated.

It was easy for him to wake up when screams started echoing down the halls.

Auguste burst out of room 25 before Damen even had a chance to stand, like he hadn’t even been asleep in the first place. Lazar blocked his path when he made to go to room 26 where the screams were coming from.

“Go back to bed, Mr de Vere, we can handle this, just as I tell you every other night,” Damen heard Lazar warn him, as he rushed into the room, flicking on the lights.

Laurent was thrashing on the bed, both legs and one arm tangled up in his sheets, a sheen of sweat covering his distressed face. Damen absently noticed that he was dressed wrist to ankle in flannelette pajamas despite the warm weather.

“Je t'en prie, mon oncle, non! Je ne veux plus,” Laurent cried out in his sleep. It took Damen a moment to translate with his shoddy knowledge of French, from his years of dating Jokaste: ‘Please, Uncle, no! I don’t want to anymore’.

Damen swallowed hard, realising what Laurent was dreaming about, and grabbed him by the shoulders to shake him awake before the whole ward woke up.

Instead of settling down when he woke, Laurent thrashed in his arms and wailed, an almost animalistic sound. He weakly beat at Damen’s chest and stared up at the ceiling with a look of abject horror.

Night terrors, Damen realised and released him, quickly stepping away from the bed.

“S'll te plaît, ne. Pas encore, ça fait mal…” Please, don't. Not again, it hurts... Laurent’s body went lax now that Damen had released him yet he still stared at the ceiling, whimpering his most private thoughts in French.

Auguste’s voice filtered in from the doorway, “Laurent, it’s me. I’m here!”

Damen shut the door when Auguste’s voice made Laurent flinch in his sleep.

Instead of grabbing him again, Damen knelt beside the bed and touched Laurent’s hand that was clenched in a fist, “Hey, shh, it’s okay. It’s just a dream.”

Laurent snatched his hand away and blinked awake. He flushed when he recognised Damen’s concerned face but covered it with a scowl, “What are you doing here? Where is Jokaste?”

Damen was thrown off kilter at the combination of sudden consciousness and an odd question, “You were having a night terror. Jokaste is sick so I’m covering her shift for her.”

Laurent sat up with what looked like effort and pushed the hair from his face with impatient hands. Damen noticed that it wasn’t tightly constrained in a long braid as it usually was but let free, gorgeous golden hair trailing past Laurent’s shoulders. The other man snorted, “Sick? Pregnant, more like.”

Damen blinked, “What?” Laurent caught sight of his shocked face and shook his head, rolling his eyes. Damen shook it off and attempted to remain professional, “What did you want Dr Jokaste for?”

“She knows how to wake me up,” Laurent replied, slowly, as if Damen was truly stupid.

“How’s that?”

“A cup of water to the face.”

“What?” Damen incredulously shook his head at Jokaste’s actions.

Laurent sneered at his tone, looking him an up and down like he didn’t know how Damen got this job in the first place, “Better than grabbing me, isn’t it?”

Damen’s jaw tightened at the unsaid insult in Laurent’s eyes, “You never told Dr Nikandros that you were having night terrors.”

“Good to know that you all gossip about me. Why am I surprised?” Laurent sniffed, fixing his blankets back around his waist. Unconsciously looking for security. For all of Laurent’s snark, he’d only just woken from a terrible dream, one he couldn’t tell himself was fictional, and was upset enough to be looking for comfort. Damen’s hand twitched to reach out and Laurent stared at it like it might bite him.

Damen gentled his voice, “You know we all have to know what to look out for in group care. I don’t know specifics about anyone who doesn’t personally have therapy with me but I need to understand what’s going on, enough so that I can help if need be.”

Laurent didn’t answer so Damen got up to get him a glass of water from the sink in the small ensuite. By the time, he had returned, Laurent was leaning up against the wall with the blankets up around his shoulders. Laurent held his hand out for the water but didn’t thank him. Damen sighed when he saw bony knuckles, tendons flexing under the skin as he gripped the glass.

“If you lose much more weight you’ll be moved to the eating disorder ward. You may not tell us your symptoms but at this point we can diagnose on observation of behaviour.”

Laurent’s pale lips curled back, “Goodness. I had no idea. Thank you ever so much for enlightening me, I’d be lost without you.”

Damen held up his hands, defensively, “Just trying to help you, sweetheart.”

The other man’s eyes became slits at the endearment, “Well, don’t. And get out.”

He nodded and shut the door quietly behind him. Auguste was nowhere to be seen, presumably back in bed. Lazar was leaning against the opposite wall, not a care in the world. Damen scowled at him. So far, Nicaise had propositioned a staff member much too old for him, Laurent had screamed his heart out in a night terror and Auguste didn’t seem to be sleeping at all.

He’d have to have a talk to the night staff about the certain things that were worth mentioning in the mornings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you thought :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are explicit mentions of underage rape in this chapter and one of our characters has a panic attack. take care of yourselves guys.  
> Happy reading!

The next morning Damen didn’t even bother to go home as there was no time anyway.

He took a quick shower in the staff bathroom, changed into the spare uniform he kept in his locker and went to have breakfast with Laurent. They were one of the few people up before eight, when the mandated activities would begin. 

Laurent spared him an annoyed look, and his two coffees, toast, bacon and eggs from the cafetiera a judgement one. 

“What?” Damen asked, with his mouth half full. Sue him, he was starving and sleep deprived.

Laurent’s nose crinkled adorably at the sight of chewed up food, “What are you still doing here?”

Damen swallowed, “Um, my job?”

“You’ve been here since eight o’clock yesterday. In the morning.”

Damen hadn’t thought that Laurent would notice such a thing. Damen brushed it off with a tease, “So? I wouldn’t want to miss another meal in your most charming company.” Damen glanced down at the single piece of toast on Laurent’s plate that was devoid of spreads and burnt to a crisp. “Does picking uninviting food make it easier for you to resist eating it?” Damen wondered, out loud, before realising he probably shouldn’t be asking such questions when they weren’t in session. He hadn’t meant it in a ‘therapy’ way, though, he was simply curious.

Laurent snarled at him, “Why would I tell you that? So you can wave desserts under my nose all day?”

Damen frowned, “Of course not. Shoving food in your face won’t make you better. It might keep you alive, sure, but it won’t improve your relationship with food at all.”

Laurent considered him for a long moment, bright blue eyes shadowed by the bags beneath them. Then, he muttered, staring back down at his plate, “Burning the food lowers the calories.”

“Huh.”

Now that Damen thought about it, he remembered seeing quite a few patients do the same in the past. He made note to look out for it, not to stop them but to know that they were struggling, like Laurent was. 

Damen tried to stop a yawn by drinking more coffee. He was unsuccessful.

“You should be in bed,” Laurent rolled his eyes.

“Careful. You're starting to sound like you care,” Damen joked.

Laurent pursed his lips, “Perhaps I’m just hoping that you’ll leave me alone at lunch.”

Damen was almost hurt before he saw the blush on the tips of the other man's ears. He grinned into his mug.

 

Damen had endured a thorough “I told you so” from Nikandros, a sixteen year old girl setting the contents of a bin on fire and missing lunch with Laurent due to dealing with a fight that broke out in the IED ward by the time he arrived at the two o’clock group therapy session.

He asked Jord to lead, for once, while he took notes. It’d be good for the young man to get some experience in leading, anyway.

Once everyone one had settled into the room, Damen took notes on who was there.

Troveld who had narcissistic tendencies he needed to work on, Erasmus who was working on mastering his social anxiety, Auguste who was apparently not sleeping well, Ancel who pulled out his beautiful red hair when he was anxious, Laurent who was bordering on an eating disorder, Makedon who had substance abuse problems, Nicaise who was struggling to adjust back to being a fourteen year old after years of being abused and- and Aimeric who was currently talking about how he was convinced that his father had a hand in him being molested as a child.

Jord had apparently gone for a less directed approach than usual in group therapy and let Aimeric start speaking freely about how it felt being raped in his bedroom at the age of eight. Damen frowned. This conversation was better suited to private sessions where there weren’t other patients around with the potential to be triggered or upset with such words being brazenly spilt. 

Damen tried to check on Niciase and Laurent without being to obvious about it. Nicaise looked to be sizing up the drop from the window he was sitting by, as if planning to make an escape. Damen was relieved to see that it seemed like it was more out of boredom then being actually distressed. 

“-and I know it wasn’t meant to but it felt good-”

Laurent’s lip had curled up in disgust but his eyes were aimed at Jord, likely already knowing that this was totally inappropriate. He didn’t seem to have any other reaction to the disaster that was happening in the room. 

“Hang on,” Makedon butted in, before Damen could think of a way to politely shut it down, “If you were an eight year old boy, how did it feel good?” 

There didn’t seem to be anything malicious about the question, just honest curiosity, but Aimeric’s beautiful face twisted into something ugly. “Well,” he spat and Damen cursed Jord for whatever was about to be said, “you must be too straight to understand. Allow me to explain; when a boy rolls over and spreads his legs, and the man slides his dick in where it belongs-”

In the corner of Damen’s eye, he saw Nicaise go deathly pale.

“-it feels right, like you’re loved, even if it hurts, it’s okay because it means you’re being loved and that’s all that matters-”

Damen looked to Laurent, to see if he’d noticed the change in Nicaise when he noticed that Laurent had gone so very still that Damen didn’t think he was breathing. The blood had drained from his face as well and, when Damen looked back over, it was Nicaise who was watching Laurent worriedly, not the other way around. 

“Enough,” Damen snapped, too harshly but it was effective. Aimeric shut up. The rest of the room noticed where Damen’s attention was. Jord pursed his lips, a guilty look crossing his face, as if it occurred to him for the first time what a colossal mistake he’d made.

Ancel went to touch Laurent’s elbow in sympathy but Laurent lurched out of his seat, and like a flip had been switched, not breathing at all turned into hyperventilating. 

Laurent stepped forward, going for the door, before he stumbled sideways into Auguste’s ready arms, where he’d stood to catch him before he fell.

“Everybody out!” Damen barked, when everyone just sat in their seats and stared as Nicaise flew on light feet to his brothers and flapped his arms around as if that would help him figure out what to do. It was the first time Damen had seen him act his age. Damen glared at Jord so fiercely, he leaped from his chair and ushered the rest of the patients out of the room, declaring the session over until tomorrow. “Put him on the floor,” Damen ordered Auguste. 

Once settled on the hardwood floor, gently as possible with the way Laurent was flailing for air, Damen assessed him. As far as he knew, Laurent hadn’t had panic attacks but it was like Laurent to have them for years and keep them secret. His full lips were turning blue and his eyes were rolling like ones of a scared horse.

Taking a chance, Damen asked, “How does he usually combat panic attacks?” 

Nicaise had dropped to his knees beside them and was strangling his hands together, as if to stop them from fluttering nervously, “He usually passes out.”  
Damen huffed through his nose and gripped Laurent hand. It weakly held back. Damen could see his shirt falling in the movement of his stomach being sucked in under his rib cage, again and again, desperate for more air.

“What calms him down when he’s upset?” Damen hated that he had to ask these things but Laurent hadn’t given them much to work with for when he needed help like this.

Silence, broken only by Laurent’s wracking gasps. Then, “When he was a child he’d hold his breath when he didn’t get his way. Mother would pat his hair until he forgot not to breathe,” Auguste said, in a rush.

Damen shrugged, “Try that.” As Auguste quickly unravelled Laurent’s tight braid, Damen leaned over him and asked gently but loud enough to be heard, “Can you hear me?”

Laurent rocked his head against the floor, a panicked approximation of a nod.

“Do you want a sedative?” He didn’t like giving them but he felt he should give Laurent the choice. Nicaise settled behind Laurent’s head, next to Auguste, and hesitatingly brushed a few wisps away from his forehead. The was no change in the breathing but the hand in Damen’s became stronger. 

Laurent shook his head no, this time a bit steadier. 

“Okay, you just have to work through it, then,” Damen nodded encouragingly at the brothers who were still touching Laurent’s hair like there was a live wire hidden in it. It was Auguste who dove in first, making a slow pass over Laurent’s scalp to the ends of his hair. Nicaise, never to be outdone or perhaps looking for guidance from his eldest brother, broke off a section and started to gently play with it. “You can do it, you know how,” Damen encouraged Laurent. 

Laurent’s lips started to pink up again and his breaths very slowly became deeper.

By that time Auguste was twisting his half of Laurent’s hair into thin ropes and Nicaise was gently weaving complicated braids into his section. Damen’s hand had started to softly trail up and down the inside of his forearm where the loose sleeve had fallen back to reveal a bony wrist and visible tendons. There were some people who needed a strong hug to calm their breathing, some people needed to be left completely alone. Laurent seemed to need tenderness.

“You okay?” Damen asked, when colour was high in Laurent’s cheeks and he was a shaking mess on the floor. 

Laurent nodded, like he didn’t trust himself to speak to lie. It was a stupid question, anyway. Of course he wasn’t. 

“I thought I was the one to hold my breath,” were the first words Nicaise said in twenty minutes.

“You both did,” Auguste sounded exhausted,” Both as stubborn as each other. It drove Papa crazy.”

 

That night, when Jokaste asked him to cover her shift again, he didn’t have it in him to argue, so he said yes, didn’t tell Nikandros and drank three coffees.

His hands had started to tremble from the caffeine when the screaming from room 26 started. Auguste dove out of his room and was restrained by Lazar again.

“S'Ll te plaît, oncle c'est juste un enfant, Baise-moi au lieu.” Please, Uncle, he’s just a child, fuck me instead.

This time, Damen forgoed the lights and sat down on the floor next to the bed. He ever so softly, cautiously, began to brush Laurent’s sweaty hair from his face, gently scooping it away from the back of his neck and fanning it across the pillow. It was so soft. The light filtering in from the hallway illuminated Laurent’s hollowed out cheekbones and temples. 

When Laurent’s eyes finally fluttered open he didn’t flinch away from Damen. 

He watched him for a long moment, no doubt noticing that Damen hadn’t turned on the lights this time. Damen continued to press the golden hair down into the pillow, almost reverently. 

“You didn’t have lunch with me,” Laurent’s voice was like sandpaper, tone accusing. 

Damen smiled a little, “Tomorrow, I’ll have breakfast and lunch with you, okay?”

Laurent watched him for a bit longer, brow creasing. Then as if coming to a decision, Laurent closed his eyes and allowed himself to be lulled back to sleep by the soft stokes in his hair.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Laurent was a study of pale colours and blue eyes, bathed in morning light. Damen was tiredly rubbing his eyes and glaring at his coffee for not having the magical properties to allow him to stay awake for three days straight without feeling terrible.

“You should probably eat something too. Not just consume yet more coffee,” Damen could tell that Laurent saw the irony in his statement. He was nursing his own straight black and had made no move to touch his own single piece blackened toast. When Damen had questioned his choice of drink, Laurent had admitted that he actually preferred lots of milk and a heap of sugar in his coffee but it was too fattening. ‘Auguste used to call it a warm milkshake,’ Laurent had added, a little smile on his face.

Damen groaned and rested his forehead on the table, “I feel sick.”

“You feel sick because you’re tired,” Laurent had no sympathy, as if Damen had chosen to be in this state. He supposed he had. He didn’t want to think about it. Laurent pushed his plate toward him, “Eat.”

Damen rocked his head to the side, so he could look up at the other man, and snorted, “I’m not taking food away from someone as clearly needing it as you.”

Laurent snorted.

Damen went quiet. From this angle Laurent should have been all chins and nose hair. Instead, he was a long neck, fluttering eyelashes and tumbling golden locks that Damen ached to touch now that he knew how soft they were. He smelled nice, too, like mint and lavender.

Uh oh, Damen distantly thought and tried not to imagine Nikandros’ reaction for Damen having a massive crush on yet another quick witted, sly and clever blonde.

Laurent continued, unaware of the revelations in Damen’s exhausted brain, “You do realise that yesterday’s incident happened because you were sleep deprived, right? And, of course, Jord’s idiocy when it comes to Aimeric but that’s another matter.”

Damen was surprised it took Laurent this long to reprimand him for it, “I know. It won’t happen again.”

“How can you know that if you are still minutes away from nodding off at this table?”

Seconds, Damen corrected in his head and sat up, trying to look more lively, “Speaking of which, what about that set you off? Other than the obvious.”

Laurent went quiet, his unusually good mood disappearing. He surprised Damen, for the second time this morning, by actually answering, “When Nicaise and I went to live with Uncle, Nicaise was at the age when he was curious of such things... like sex,” Laurent grimaced at the word, “I was thirteen but hadn’t had the interest before, so Uncle sat us down together and told us that it was time we knew all about it.”

Damen wanted to take back his question, skin crawling, but he couldn’t, not when Laurent was trusting him like this.

“What he told us was word for word what Aimeric said yesterday,” Laurent shook his head in disbelief, “Word for word.”

Damen swallowed thickly, “About the boy and the man?”

Laurent didn’t answer him, staring into his coffee like he was looking for a prophecy in the bitter water.

Damen swallowed again and rolled his neck. That rose so many questions and clarified a few as well. Their uncle had controlled them so thoroughly that the information they had about sex was only from him. Boys as young and innocent as them wouldn’t have known better and for their uncle to have taken advantage of that… Damen tried not to shudder, knowing Laurent would take it the wrong way.

“Have you-” Damen tried to think of the correct phrasing, “Have you been able to learn about sex in other domains?”

Damen immediately knew he’d gone too far when Laurent snarled, “He let us watch boy and daddy porn, if that’s what you mean. Don't ask me where he found it.”

“That’s not what I…” he loosed a shocked breath. Damen felt that he was standing in a minefield, “I meant, do you require guidance in having safe sex in the future?” Heat rose to his cheeks and he cursed himself. He was a professional, asking a professional question.

Laurent pursed his lips but the fire in his eyes burnt out, “I don’t think that is necessary. Not for me, at least.”

“As in you were able to properly educate yourself?”

“As in I never want to do that again,” Laurent’s face brooked no argument.

Damen stopped himself from correcting him that rape wasn’t even the same realm of sex or that Laurent should learn for when he one day had a healthy relationship, even one that wasn’t sexual, simply romantic. Then, at least, he would understand how to protect himself from unwanted advances in the future. Looking into icy blue eyes, Damen decided to leave that conversation to Nik for their private sessions.

Instead, he nodded, “Okay,” and let the topic drop.

 

Damen had a private session with Auguste that morning and he confronted his friend.

“You look tired,” Auguste had chirped, as he sat down. He’d immediately started bouncing his knee, telling Damen he knew he was in trouble.

“So do you,” Damen had said, meaningfully, “Had a few late nights, have we?”

Auguste had sheepishly smiled and admitted that he was only sleeping a couple of hours a night because of nightmares; a combination of his uncle, his brothers and the war. When Damen suggested sleeping pills, Auguste pleaded that no, he needed to be there for Laurent when he had night terrors. Damen tried to patiently explain that that’s what the night staff were there for as he prescribed some sleeping pills, but, from the look on Auguste’s face, he wasn’t so sure that he’d take them.

Just before Auguste left the room, he mentioned that Nicaise and Laurent were back to not speaking to him.

“What? Why?”

Auguste had shrugged, “They may be my brothers but can’t begin to explain them.”

Damen had approached Nicaise about it when he saw him loitering in the hallway outside of Damen’s office. After Nicaise had done nothing more that sprout vulgar invitations, that could on some level be counted as very aggressive flirting, Damen had given up on getting any information out of him. It wasn’t until Nicaise had disappeared that Damen had realised that that was exactly what the boy wanted.

When Damen finally sat down with Laurent for lunch he figured the battle already lost.

He didn’t think that Laurent would all out ignore him, though, staring toward the other side of the cafeteria.

“Laurent?”

“Hmm?” came the distracted response.

“I asked why you were ignoring your brothers again.”

“I never ignore them. I simply avoid their company,” Laurent was still staring away, not really paying Damen any attention.

“It’s the same thing,” Damen frowned. He never realised how Laurent would give him his whole attention when they spoke, even when avoiding his gaze in a topic he was uncomfortable in. Damen wondered if he’d done something wrong.

“Yes, it is. We’re brothers. When we need help, the others are there. When we don’t, we avoid,” Laurent’s voice was far away, as if he were thinking of much more important things.

“Well, Auguste feels differently. He misses you,” that caught his attention, pretty eyes flashing in Damen’s direction.

Laurent’s mouth twisted, “Oh, so you know him better than me, is that it?” Oh boy, “I am not ignoring my brother. Only three weeks ago I was the one to coax him out from under a table when a door slammed shut and scared the life out of him.”

“What?” Damen’s eyes widened. Auguste had never mentioned that he was having flashbacks. Then again, he seemed to be putting the livelihood of his brothers over his health. Of course he never mentioned it. Damen sighed through his nose, these brothers would be the death of him.

“See? You do not know him better than I do. I love him and he knows that he can ask me anything I can give him,” Laurent turned back to whatever he’d been watching.

“He doesn’t want something from you. He simply wants you back in his life. He misses you, Laurent.”

Laurent was barely listening but, because of this, he answered more honestly than he usually would have, “He wants the little boy he left behind when I was thirteen. He doesn’t want the mess I am now.”

Damen’s heart thumped painfully in his chest. He decided it was time for a change in subject, “What has your interest so thoroughly?”

Laurent subtly pointed, “Who is that?”

Damen followed his finger, “Govart.” The newest member of the security department.

Govart was currently leaning down to talk to Nicaise, who was tilting his head to display his long neck and swaying his hips, so slightly Damen had to be looking for it to notice, to draw attention to them. Govart said something and Nicaise through his head back with a tinkling laugh, fully displaying his throat.

Govart had no reason to be speaking to the patients but there wasn’t a rule against it. Even still, “Do you want me to break it up?”

This earned him Laurent’s full attention. His eyes were very serious but his mouth ticked up in a very small grateful smile, “I can handle it.”

Damen wasn’t so sure what he meant by that until Laurent approached the man after Nicaise had left. Laurent had softened his lips and glanced up underneath his eyelashes. He swayed his hips like Nicaise had when Govart stepped unnecessarily closer to speak to him.

Damen tried not to scowl. It was perfectly alright for Laurent to show interest like that again. Good, even. A sign that he was healing. Damen still left the lunch room, quickly, unable to stand the sight of Laurent pressing up closer to the other man when Laurent always flinched away when Damen came so close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all  
> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought in the comments, I love hearing your feedback :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter bc I wore myself out with the feels. Hope you enjoy!

Pallas and Damen had only just started explaining that the two o’clock group therapy session would be focusing on the goals that they would like to achieve this week when Nicaise stalked through the door, straight backed and curls bouncing.

“Thank you for joining us, Nicaise, please take a…” Damen trailed off when he saw the look in the young boys eyes and silently wished farewell to this hour that was supposed to be making up for yesterday's. The de Vere brothers seemed to be making it their mission to disrupt everything that Damen planned out.

Nicaise jabbed Laurent in the chest and spat, “For god’s sakes, Laurent, find your own man!”

There were shocked gasps and titters around the group. Laurent gazed back at his younger brother with an expression of ultimate boredom, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Guys,” Auguste tried to intervene, already seeing how this was about to blow up.

Nicaise’s face screwed up, “Don’t play dumb. Govart is suddenly no longer interested in my ass, despite lusting after me for days, and now wants a piece of you after one stupid conversation. Why don’t you fuck Damen, he’d obviously love to fuck you into the mattress,” Laurent made no response to that and Nicaise cut over Damen’s objection, “This is like Uncle all over again! If you love me as you say, than fucking stop taking them away from me and find your own!”

At this, Laurent frowned in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Damen watches you 24/7 with his tongue hanging out-”

“Not that,” Laurent made a dismissive wave of his hand, “About Uncle. I never took him away from you.”

Nicaise rolled his eyes, expression long suffering, “You’re such an idiot. You both are,” he added, glancing at Auguste, who’d stood up beside them, arms up and ready as if to restrain one of them should things get violent. 

Laurent’s eyes were very bright against his suddenly ashy skin. He said, “Explain. Why are we idiots?”

Damen stood up as well, thinking that this had gotten well out of hand and needed to be had out in a more private place.

Before he could say as much, Nicaise said smugly, “You think that you were so special that he only wanted you? He was fucking me the whole time.”

The group went silent at this. Damen glanced to where Pallas was sitting on the other side of the circle. He was shaking, eyes wide; obviously he hadn’t known this, either. 

Auguste swayed where he stood. His voice came out like broken glass, sounding like an objection, “You were only seven.”

Nicaise laughed, and it wasn’t the tinkling sound Damen had gotten used to. This one sounded like it hurt coming out. “So? I was still a better fuck than Laurent,” he turned to where Laurent had frozen, “That’s what Uncle told me. He told me that I was such a better fuck than you and that he only used you when he was bored. He used me because he loves me.”

Laurent slowly stood up, his face marble except for the two bright flushes, high on his cheeks. The room drew in a collective breath. Damen braced himself for whatever vile thing that was about to leave Laurent’s pretty mouth.

He was not prepared for Laurent’s hand to fly out and smack Nicaise across the face. 

Niciase wasn’t either. His head swung to the side and when he turned back to Laurent, hand clutching his cheek, his eyes were surprised and unbelievably hurt. He hadn’t expected Laurent to retaliate in such a way even with the terrible things he’d said. 

“Laurent,” Auguste choked, going to Nicaise and being shoved away by the upset teenage boy’s skinny arms. 

“You’re just like Uncle,” Nicaise spat at Laurent, eyes welling with tears, “Hitting me when you don’t like what I have to say.”

Laurent’s face twisted in an expression Damen couldn’t decide was more guilty or furious. “I am nothing like Uncle! You don’t have to warm my dick to earn my love!” Laurent had completely lost his composure, yelling so hard that his face had flushed, as quickly as it had paled before. “I love you despite the shit that pours from you mouth, despite rubbing my face in it that I will never be as favoured as you, and despite that you hate me! Stop trying to make me stop loving you because there is nothing to be done of it. If there was, I’d have done it years ago, because loving you hurts!”

At this, Nicaise froze. He stared up at Laurent as if looking for a lie; when he found none, his face crumpled. Nicaise sobbed, wrenched from his chest in a heart breaking sound, and ran from the room. Pallas took off after him.

Laurent went for the door as well but Damen blocked his way. 

“Let me through,” Laurent kept his head down, his voice practically a growl. 

Damen ignored him, “Shows over people. The group session will be rescheduled. Again.”  
Everyone filtered out, some with more urgency than others, whispering to themselves. Damen caught Auguste’s wrist to make him stay. He smiled at Damen, shaken but grateful.

“Let me through, Damen,” Laurent tried to duck under his arm. Damen put gentle hands on his shoulders and felt them shaking. 

“We have to deal with this, Laurent. Normally I don’t mind if patients don’t get along, if family don’t get along. But you three are so intertwined that I think the only way to heal one of you is to heal all of you at once.”

Laurent shook his head, gaze still cast down. He could see where this was going. Damen was firm.

“I can’t have you guys interrupting group sessions all the time because it’s the only time you’re all stuck in the same room. So. Family therapy. Starting now.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Laurent spat and gave up trying to get past Damen. He stalked to the other side of the room instead.

Damen stayed next to the door, not trusting Laurent not to escape the first chance he got. He nodded at Auguste to start first.

Auguste took a breath, obviously not knowing where to start, with all that had just gone down. He apparently decided on simple, “I want you to be able to speak to me. To tell me about it if you wish.”

“Fuck you, too,” Laurent snapped in his brother’s direction, still not raising his head. Damen suspected that he was crying. His French accent got thicker when he was choked up.

“I want to help you, Laurent. I want you to tell me what I missed when you were all writing letters that seemed to happy and,” Auguste paused, turning his head away from Damen’s sight, ashamed, “normal.”

Laurent breathed in sharply at the word. “You do not want to know,” Laurent said, precisely.

“Yes, I do. It’s my fault, I left, so I should know the damage I caused,” Auguste’s hands trembled. Damen wanted to object but stayed silent, knowing that Laurent would.

Laurent finally looked up. His face was a wreck, blotchy red, wet eyelashes and chewed lips. His voice was no better, “No. I was the eldest when you left. It was up to me to protect Nicaise. I failed even though I was five years older than him. If you were there, you wouldn’t have failed.”

Now we’re finally getting somewhere, Damen thought.

Auguste stepped closer to his brother, “That’s not true. You were only thirteen, you wouldn’t have known better.”

“Oh, Auguste,” Laurent laughed brokenly, not unlike Nicaise’s had been before. Tears shone on his cheeks. “That’s not even the half of it.”

“Tell me it all then,” Auguste looked beseeching. 

“Really? You really want to know?” Damen could tell that whatever would come out of Laurent’s mouth was meant to hurt, either himself, Auguste or both. Auguste nodded before Damen could mediate. “Fine,” Laurent snapped, eyes lit up in blue fire, “You think I was only thirteen? I was well on my way to sixteen when I finally wore out my use and it was more to due with the fact that I had started coming than the hair under my arms,” Laurent saw Auguste flinch and continued, “Hit puberty late, just as you always joked that I would be a boy forever. If only… I was fifteen and should have known better but I was so stupid! Only once did I ever say no to Uncle and it had made me feel so guilty that I was back on my knees for him in twenty minutes-”

“That’s not-” Auguste began, shaking his head.

“I’m not finished! You wanna know what I did when Uncle ditched me and started fucking our little brother? Nothing! He was a fucking ten year old- no, a seven year old, I now know- and I wasn’t even horrified, Auguste. I was jealous!”

Auguste opened his mouth.

“No, don’t you dare tell me you want to hear this shit, because no one does! Know one needs this in their heads or it will fuck them up like it did me!” Laurent’s chest heaved, crying in earnest now.

Auguste seemed to no longer have words. Damen, for all his training, could not fathom any either. He just wanted to scoop Laurent up in a hug and keep him safe. Laurent would never let him do that, even in this state.

When Laurent shoved past him out the door, Damen let him.

When Auguste started to cry, Damen pulled him close and held his shaking shoulders tightly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another late night for poor Damen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I was rereading the previous chapters and, my god, so many grammar and spelling mistakes. So sorry and thank you all for putting up with it XD  
> If anyone is/wants to be/knows a beta reader who's willing to put up with my special brand of crazy, message me or comment below :)

Damen was the walking dead by the time he finally finished his shift. This time when Jokaste had called, Damen had actually hung up on her.

He felt bad and thought about calling her back but knew that if he did, she’d somehow manipulate him into agreeing. After three days without sleep and the absolute shit storm that was going down with the de Veres, Damen just wanted to crash for fourteen hours and maybe eat ice cream for breakfast tomorrow. 

It was because Damen was so tired that he didn’t hear the sounds of heavy breathing or the smacking of lips on lips until he was already in the staff change room.

He froze. Partly obscured by the row of lockers, but still very much visible, was Govart pressing a man with bright blonde hair up into the wall and kissing him hungrily. It didn’t take much guessing to realise who in the hospital owned such gorgeous hair.

Laurent’s cheeks were flushed and his braid had almost come undone. Damen couldn’t see much else due to the fact that Govart was pressed up against him like he wished neither of them were wearing anything between their skin.

Damen averted his eyes and quickly went to grab his things. Laurent was perfectly entitled to let off steam in any way he chose to, it wasn’t up to Damen to tell him otherwise. Even if Laurent had only told him this morning that he had no interest in such things… and this was a staff bathroom of all places… and Govart shouldn’t be fraternizing with the patients anymore than Damen should.

The hard painful lump thumping away in Damen’s chest was his own problem to deal with.

Damen had only grabbed his bag and turned to leave again, hoping that the two didn’t realise they had an audience, when Laurent made a hurt sound in the back of his throat, the noise echoing in the tiled room. Damen looked over instinctively. 

Laurent had pulled his face away and his neck was now being mauled. That wasn’t what gave Damen pause; it was the tears that were silently streaking down his face, that his wrists were being held by Govart’s large hands and Laurent’s eyes, when he glanced over Govart’s shoulder, were the picture of misery.

They widened when they caught sight of Damen but before Laurent could react further, Govart had put a strong hand in his messy braid and yanked his face up to his, growling, “Don’t act like you aren’t loving this, you filthy slut. You’ve been flirting with me all day.”

Damen just reacted.

The next thing he knew Govart was sprawled out on the floor, face covered in blood. Damen kicked his leg and he didn’t react. 

Laurent had slid down to the floor like his strings had been cut. He listed to the side a little and watched Govart’s unconscious body with wide eyes, like he was expecting him to jump up and attack at any moment.

Damen went to touch his shoulder, thought better of it, “Are you okay?”

Laurent glanced up, not seeming to even have the effort to sneer, “Really?”

Damen nodded. It was a stupid question. He went to Govart’s body and grabbed his walkie talkie, “I need security down in the staff changing room, Govart has assaulted a patient. He is now unconscious and needs medical attention under high supervision. He then needs to be escorted off the premises, immediately afterwards.” What Damen wanted to do was tell them to drag his sorry ass out of the building, awake or otherwise, but Damen himself was on thin ice after assaulting a member of the faculty staff whether it was due or not. To Laurent he asked, “Do you need medical attention?” Do you need a rape kit, he didn’t want to say aloud. He prayed not. Laurent seemed to have had all his clothes in order but Damen didn’t know how long Govart had had Laurent down here. He hadn’t seen Laurent for hours, though he had thought that he was just avoiding everyone after the blow up this afternoon. 

Laurent stared at him, seeming to take a while to understand, before, “No. You got here before… he only kissed me.”

‘Only’. Damen seethed silently. He was tempted to kick the brute again. Instead he crouched down in front of Laurent.

“Let’s get you back to your room, yeah?”

Laurent swallowed, twice. His pupils were very large. Shock. He shifted on the floor a little and almost toppled over. He rolled his eyes at himself but they seemed more inclined to rolling back into his head. “I may need assistance,” he eventually admitted. 

Damen gently lifted him and tucked a hand high around his waist to help him walk back to his room. Laurent seemed to be trying to abstain from any skin to skin contact with Damen and Damen tried to accommodate him without letting him fall without the support. Damen could feel Laurent’s heart pounding through his bony ribs in his back. His face had started to go blank, like he was sleepwalking.

Pallas and Lazar were in the hallway of the patient’s rooms and were so much in their own worlds that they barely glanced at Damen helping Laurent into his room and closing the door behind them. Damen felt for them, being a couple who had alternating day and night shifts where they barely saw each other must be hard. But for god’s sakes, what if it had been Govart helping Laurent into his room. Perhaps it was because they trusted Damen. It still didn’t sit right. 

Laurent collapsed in his bed. In this lighting, Damen could see the sheen of sweat on Laurent’s forehead. 

Damen was stuck by how it could have just as easily been Nicaise, the small teenager squashed up against the wall beneath a man thrice his age… then it clicked. 

“You knew,” Damen wanted to shout but his voice came out choked.

Laurent’s eyes flicked around the room, seeming unable to land anywhere for long. “Yes,” he nodded, for a while, longer than he would usually permit for a man who disliked using his body language to portray emotion. “Or, well. Nicaise did. He can always pick them in a crowd. The ones who desperately want power over someone.”

“Why would you speak to him then?” Damen asked, though he already knew.

Laurent shrugged like it was unimportant, expression dazed, “Better me than him. Niciase wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted and a man like that doesn’t need much persuasion.”

“Why not tell me?”

“With what proof?” Laurent had started to shiver, brows drawing in in frustration, “It’s fine. Now that this had happened, the threat is gone. I don’t know why my body is reacting like this, though.”

“You’re going into shock,” Damen was surprised Laurent didn’t recognize the symptoms himself. He grabbed the scratchy blanket of the end of the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders.

The look he was given would have been more caustic if Laurent had been more himself, “I know that. I just don’t understand why.”

Jesus fucking Christ. His uncle had screwed with him so much that Laurent no longer thought that sexual assault was something to bat an eyelash at. Damen wanted to punch the old man in the teeth. 

Damen glanced away, unable to look at Laurent for a moment. He looked so small, braid half undone and practically a shaking puddle of pale skin underneath thick blankets. Damen had almost left, thinking he’d interrupted Laurent letting off steam after the big fight with his brothers. He should have known better. What an idiot he was.

An idea struck him as Laurent’s shivers started to affect his breathing, as if it was slowly turning into a panic attack. 

Damen plucked a hair brush off of the small chest next to the bed and held it up in askance.

Laurent contemplated him for a moment before lifting his legs onto the bed and turning so that he was facing the end, where the door was. He nodded behind him, inviting Damen to sit on the bed there. 

“I’m still mad at you,” he shakily said, as Damen settled down behind him and started to gently unravel the tie at the end of his braid.

“Mad at me?” Damen placed the tie on the chest and slowly began to thread his fingers through his hair, starting from the bottom so he could watch the intricate weave fall apart bit by bit.

“For this afternoon. Just because you beat up Govart doesn’t get you a ‘get out of jail free’ card,” Damen couldn’t see Laurent’s face but his breaths had slowed. 

Damen made a noncommittal sound and reached the nape of his neck. Feeling brave, he began to massage his fingers into Laurent’s scalp. For all his apparent anger, Laurent positively melted. “Why did you study psychology if you don’t believe in its benefits?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Laurent let out a long breath. Damen couldn’t tell if it was because of the question or that Damen had started to work his thumbs into his extremely tense neck. He picked up the brush. “Because Uncle had studied it. He used the knowledge to manipulate our decisions. To control us. I wanted to learn so that I could understand more of what he was doing and protect myself from it.” The shivers had started to dissipate. 

Damen hummed. He started to brush the ends of the gold spun locks and held the rest by Laurent’s nape in the other hand so he wouldn’t feel any sharp tugs. “That’s why you resist the treatment. You feel like you’re being manipulated when we use technique to make you think of things you don’t want to.”

Laurent sounded almost sleepy, “I am being manipulated when you back me into a corner in my own mind. When you guide me into a certain way of thinking, healthy or not.”

Damen nodded, though Laurent couldn’t see him. His hair was so soft. Softer than Jokaste’s, despite all of her expensive hair products. “How are you going to get better if you don’t let us help?”

Laurent shook his head, hair slipping through Damen’s fingers at the movement. It was entirely smooth now, not a knot in sight. He kept brushing it anyway. They were silent for a long time. Laurent, very slowly, started to lean against one of Damen’s shoulders. Damen’s knuckles brushed along the raised bumps of Laurent’s spine through his shirt as his scooped Laurent’s hair over his shoulder to continue brushing it, out of the way. “Okay,” Laurent finally said, startling Damen from where he’d started to relax. His voice was entirely sleepy this time, accent prominent and vowels slurred. “Okay. I need help. I want to stop feeling like this all the time. I need your help.”

Damen, sleep deprived and not thinking properly, pressed his small smile against Laurent’s hair. It was even softer on his lips. “You’ll have to trust me,” Damen whispered and Laurent became a heavier weight on his side.

“I already trust you,” came a whisper, soft and confused. Not long after his admission, his body went lax, finally asleep.

Damen kept stroking Laurent’s hair until he could barely keep his eyes open. It was all he could do not to fall back into the bed and sleep with Laurent in his arms. It sounded so very tempting.

Instead, he gently adjusted Laurent so he was lying in the bed and put the bed clothes to rights so he wouldn’t wake in the night tangled up. He’s so beautiful, Damen drowsily thought before he turned off the light and closed to door behind him.

He called a taxi, not trusting himself to drive, and when he was finally home for the first time in three day, he crawled straight into his own bed and fell asleep, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I know I promised that the angst would be gone next chapter, but this time I mean it! (Probably.) (Probably not, I have issues and would rather write pain XD)  
> Anyway, I'm thinking of doing the next chapter from Laurent's perspective for some private brotherly love without Damen sticking his nose in it. Thoughts?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some progress... also poor Damen

Naturally, because Damen can’t catch a break, he’d been ordered back to the hospital at six am for paperwork and a statement to the police about the assault that had happened last night. This left him with a raging migraine and six hours of sleep.

Damen supposed he ought to be grateful that Laurent didn’t feign forgetfulness about the whole ordeal just to get back at Damen for forcing him to speak his mind to his older brother yesterday. Despite the moment they’d shared last night where Laurent had finally, FINALLY, let his guard down and admitted to needing help, Laurent refused to look him in the eye for the whole interview, causing the police officer to begin to question Damen about his own treatment of his patients. 

Laurent had quickly put an end to this, explaining that he was just embarrassed that Damen had to come to his rescue like a hero for a damsel in distress. Damen would believe it himself if it hadn’t come willingly from Laurent’s mouth but Damen knew that Laurent would never so give up something that had the power to hurt him so easily. 

It didn’t stop Laurent from avoiding his gaze even when they had left the interview room and gone to get breakfast from the cafeteria. 

Laurent must’ve suspected that Damen was gearing up for something because he said, as if to pre-emptively change the subject, “You may as well get your own room here, for all the time you must spend at home.” He didn’t look up from where he had his daily stare off with his singular piece of burnt toast.

Damen shrugged, “I like to be here if you need me. Perhaps I will request one.”

Laurent snapped, shoulders tense, “I do not need you.”

Damen very carefully laid his hand down next to Laurent’s balled fist so that the sides of their palms touched slightly. Laurent’s whole body twitched but he didn’t move away. “I know that you feel vulnerable after last night,” Damen began the speech he had thought through last night in preparation of Laurent withdrawing, “but I will not let you take back asking for help. Instead, I have another idea.”

This got Laurent’s attention. He looked up and scowled, “You have an idea? We must prepare for the worst then. Where is the nearest exit should your thoughts cause a natural disaster?” 

Damen rolled his eyes, “Ha, ha. You’re so funny. What I was thinking is that you don’t like therapy because you think that you are vulnerable to the wills of others, nefarious or otherwise. So my solution is to be vulnerable for you in return. If you trust me with your deepest thoughts and feelings, I will trust you with mine. Will you feel safer in the knowledge of mutual self destruction?”

Laurent looked intrigued, though his tone was suspicious, “How am I to know that you are telling the truth and not some made up sob story?”

“I think you know by now that I am an honest man.”

Laurent nodded, scrunched up brows relaxing, “You are such a terrible liar that I will be able to tell.”

Damen frowned, “That was not my point but okay. Do you agree to these terms?”

Laurent contemplated him for a moment before nodding.

Damen tapped his hands on the table nervously, “Now of course I can’t make the same promises for Nikandros who will continue to be your private councillor but this is just between us for when I’m helping you in family therapy and group sessions-”

“You are stalling,” Laurent interrupted, arching an eyebrow. 

Damen pursed his lip and busied himself with stirring more sugar into his cup, “Right. Okay. So… late last year, my father died of cancer leaving me as the heir to eight point nine million dollars- he was an associate for a firm- it doesn’t matter- and while I was grieving for my father, my older half brother, Kastor, arranged for his lawyer to pick apart his will until he was able to sway it so much in his favour that every single dollar went to him instead. I didn’t find this out until I’d gone to our father’s house to pick up his suit for the funeral and found that Kastor had taken every memento, every photograph, everything of meaning between myself and my father, and had lit it up in this massive bonfire on the front lawn. He’d shoved it in my face that he had taken everything from me, including the money- not that I cared too much about that, it was worse that he had burnt all of our family photos and… There was this family heirloom of a golden laurel that dad had passed down to me because I’d always pretended to be a Greek Olympian as a child. Kastor had melted it on the stove top.

“Anyway, jump a head to three months ago. I hadn’t talked to my brother since then. You know, Dr Jokaste? I had been dating her for a year and was thinking about proposing. One day, I thought, why not? So I bought the ring and had rushed over to her house without telling her, ready to promise myself to her right there and then. I walked in on her having sex with my brother,” Damen swallowed, drank from his coffee. “Kastor told me that they’d been having an affair the entire time. He laughed at my face and told me to get out so he could finish. And I did.” Damen stared at the dreads of his coffee, unwilling to look at Laurent. Damen hadn’t told anyone but Nikandros about that and usually didn’t even think of it, instead throwing himself into his work so he could forget. It was more ashamed that he’d been tricked so easily than hurt. By now he knew that Jokaste wasn’t who he truly wanted to spend his life with. He waited for Laurent to sneer at him for not getting his own lawyer or not noticing his girlfriend cheating for an entire year.

A cool hand brushed his. Laurent had unfurled his fist and was now overlapping Damen’s hand with his pinky finger lightly linked to his. His mouth was a firm line but his eyes were impossibly soft. Softer than Damen had ever seen them.

Damen shook his head to try and clear away his clouding sadness, “I know that compared to you, it’s nothing. But now you know where to stick the knife.”

Laurent flicked his other hand in dismissal, “Everyone has their own pain. Far be it me to judge what someone can and can’t handle.” It sounded like acknowledgement of Damen’s secret. That he would keep it safe. Damen wondered if Laurent ever treated his own heart so tenderly. 

Damen brushed his pinky finger across the inside of Laurent’s in gratitude and pretended that he didn’t see the other man shiver from the touch. 

 

 

Damen had had it all worked out. The brothers would have lunch together everyday as their family therapy time so it wouldn’t disrupt their other sessions. Damen would be there to mediate with the other staff on hand as they supervised the cafetiera. They would sit at the table furthest from everyone so they could have privacy to speak freely. Laurent had been won over despite the fact that he hadn’t even attempted to bring food to the table because apparently this was “stressful enough without trying to count his calories”. Auguste was easily invited to join them, practically wagging his tail as he sat opposite Damen.

What Damen had regrettably forgotten about was the fact that the youngest de Vere lived to make his life difficult.

“Not only did you poach Govart from me,” Nicaise immediately honed in on Laurent as soon as he caught sight of him in the lunch room, “but you couldn’t even make it worth the man’s time.”

“What?” Auguste asked.

Damen didn’t know how the boy found out about Govart’s attack but he wasn’t willing to let this go on any further. “Why don’t you join us?” Damen tried, “We’re trying family therapy during this time everyday, now.”

Nicaise looked him up and down. Whatever he saw left him unimpressed. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Come on, Nicaise,” Auguste smiled encouragingly, “Everyone else is trying, you won’t be the only one. There’s no need to feel embarrassed about needing your family.”

Nicaise snorted, “How on Earth is Laurent trying anything other than to ruin my life?”

Auguste sounded stern, “Don’t you speak like that. Laurent is trying to get better, same as I am. I think it’s time you started to let go of the past as well and help us rebuild our family.” Beside Damen, Laurent winced so slightly Damen almost missed it.

Nicaise’s eyes became slits at being compared to his brother. 

“You think Laurent is letting go of the past? Please! He might be letting you all think that he’s not eating because he’s trying to control what little of his life he can but it’s a lie! He really does it because Uncle used to tell him not to so he’d never go through puberty,” Nicaise turned on Laurent, cheeks flushed with anger. “I think it’s about time you gave up, Laurent, because you failed. You’re years too late now, and no amount of starving yourself if going to reverse time.”

“Enough!” Auguste snapped, drawing Nicaise into a heated argument. 

Damen watched Laurent for a reaction. There was none; he was simply watching the two argue with a glazed look like one might watch mindless television. Damen wondered if Laurent was even listening.

“Prove him wrong,” Damen whispered, glancing at his sandwich meaningfully.

Laurent swallowed audibly and when he turned to Damen his façade faltered a little, “He isn’t wrong.”

“Yes, he is,” Damen urged, “You want to get better, remember?”

Frustration clouded Laurent’s eyes, “How is this helping me get better?” 

Damen tried to nudge him into action, “The only way to starve an eating disorder is to eat.”

Laurent rolled his eyes, “I don’t have an eating disorder.”

“Not yet.”

Laurent glanced to where his brothers were bickering. He sighed, reached over and picked up half of Damen’s sandwich in the fastidious way one might hold a dirty tissue they found on the floor. He looked so ill at the thought of eating it that Damen almost took it back from him. No, he told himself sternly, this is good for him. This is good for all of them, they’re just too stubborn to see it.

Nicaise glanced over, mid-rant, in time to see Laurent take a, for once, reasonable-sized bite of food.

He trailed off, watching Laurent who was chewing like it physically hurt him to do so. Auguste followed his gaze, momentarily confused by the lack of smart remarks from his youngest brother, and his mouth fell open. Damen kicked him under the table and mouthed, ‘be cool’ at Auguste’s affronted expression. He demonstrated by picking up the other half of his sandwich and eating like nothing was amiss. After another kick to his shin, Auguste followed his lead. 

Nicaise watched Laurent swallow and take another bite before sitting down at the table. 

The rest of the meal was in silence but Damen was happy. 

The de Veres were sitting within hearing distance of one another and no one was in tears. Laurent finished most of his half of the sandwich before claiming to be feeling too sick.

It was progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your lovely comments, you give me life! In all honesty, your feed back is what makes me update so quickly, so please tell me what you thought of this chapter!  
> Next chapter will be from Laurent's perspective when he spends some time with Nicaise. I promise it won't hurt. (Okay that's a lie... it will only hurt a little bit XD)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from Laurent's perspective...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all... I'm so sorry  
> Second of all... Please don't hate me

That night, Laurent sat in bed, half way through a delightful book about two men who fall in love despite being the heirs of nations who have always been at war.

He wasn’t at all won over purely because the love interest was a tall, dark and gorgeous man, not unlike a man he now knew. It was simply a coincidence that Dr Damianous had warm dark eyes, a terribly cute dimple in his left cheek and shoulders so broad that he looked able to pick Laurent up without breaking a sweat, much like the Prince in the story.

Laurent’s eyes had glazed over, no longer reading the words as he contemplated how long Damen would be able to hold him up and for what purposes… Like if Laurent needed a book on a top shelf and instead of Damen doing to reasonable thing such as reach for it himself, he grabbed Laurent by the waist and raised him a few more inches off the ground… or if, for whatever reason, Damen wished to lift him simply because he’d been challenged that he were unable. Most likely by Laurent, himself… or if he finally acted on the desire that so often clouded his gaze when he looked at Laurent and pushed him back against the wall, wrapping Laurent’s legs around his waist, lifting him by the rear as he absolutely ravished him-

Laurent’s stomach curdled like he’d drunk sour milk.

He sighed and shut the book, after carefully marking the page. He breathed deeply to fight the nausea, drank from the glass of water beside his bed.

A soft knock came at his door and Laurent ridiculously thought for a moment that maybe he’d conjured Damen by thought. But no, it was late, Damen had long since gone home and, really, he shouldn’t be having any visitors at all. 

The door swung open before he gave consent and there Nicaise stood. He chin was lifted, eyes almost angry which juxtaposed the way he had his arms wrapped around himself.

Laurent saw Lazar frowning over Nicaise’s shoulder, looking caught between caution and worry for the boy.

“Don’t you miss being fucked?” Nicaise demanded, without preamble. He was obviously gobsmacked that Laurent had refused Govart’s advances and was confused about Laurent’s motives in diverting the man’s attentions to him if this was so. Laurent wasn’t surprised. Nicaise would understand when he grew older and if he didn’t… Laurent was okay with being hated if it kept him safe. Too bad it was too little, too late. 

“No,” Laurent answered, truthfully, for once. “Nowadays the thought makes me sick. I don’t know why. Or maybe I do and don’t wish to think of it.”

Nicaise looked even more frustrated. He also looked even more confused.

“I do miss feeling loved, though, if that’s what you’re really asking,” Laurent added, feeling sorry for him. He didn’t know if he pitied him because Nicaise was still lying to himself or because he still had the shit storm that was facing what had happened to them to come. 

In the time that he’d spent with Dr Nikandros, Laurent had only asked one question that wasn’t patronising to the man.

“Why is Nicaise doing so much better than I am? Why am I… why is he stronger when he is younger than myself?”

Nikandros had straightened from his distressed slouch that Laurent had left him in after a verbal bashing just a few minutes prior. He’d swallowed nervously, likely thinking it was yet another mind game, “That’s because he is still in the denial stage of his grief. He isn’t reacting to it because he isn’t letting himself feel it at all. Nicaise still believes, or at least tells himself, that your uncle is going to be let free and things will go back to the way they were before Auguste came home.”

“Grief?”

“Well, yeah. Both of you had had your trust completely violated by a beloved family member. You’d be going through the cycle of grief because that important relationship has, not only been destroyed, but sullied of all the good memories. It’s a very hard thing to come to terms with, especially when you were at the age of developing into an adult. These relationships shape who you are in the future.” When Laurent had said nothing, Nikandros added, “Nicaise isn’t doing better than you, at all. He hasn’t even begun to try.”

Laurent then ruined Nikandros’ day. How dare he act like Nicaise wasn’t trying. He was so thrown about by everything that had happened, Laurent was happy that he was even talking, never mind letting go of Uncle. Laurent knew first hand how impossible that seemed. 

Now, Nicaise nodded at Laurent’s response like he understood. The longer he nodded, the more his eyes began to well up in tears.

Laurent opened his mouth, to say what he didn’t know but Nicaise beat him to it.

“I’m sorry,” it came out in a desperate cry, one that Laurent had never heard Nicaise make.

Laurent closed his mouth and simply opened his arms. Nicaise immediately crossed the room and crawled into his lap, the way he hadn’t done since he was three. Skinny arms and legs wrapped around Laurent’s neck and waist and held so tight that it almost hurt. Laurent patted the ends of the boys hair and tried not to remember how Uncle had used to weave pearls into the curly locks.

Lazar reached inside the room and Laurent braced himself for a telling off about how they should be going to sleep soon and how this was inappropriate. Instead the other man caught the door handle and quietly swung it shut, giving them privacy. 

He levelled up in Laurent’s respect.

Just as soon as the door clicked shut, Nicaise began rocking down into his lap.

The blood drained from Laurent’s face and he slammed his hands down onto his brother’s hips, restraining him. “Nicaise, no,” Laurent whispered, trying not to be disgusted. He would have done the same at this age, he reminded himself. It just made Laurent ashamed at himself instead. 

“Please,” Nicaise shakily pulled back with wet cheeks and eyelashes. His eyes looked aqua when the were rimmed red. “I’m good at it. I’ll let you fuck me, I know you’ve never done that before.”

Laurent just shook his head, unable to find words. His poor baby brother. How he’d failed him. How he’d failed himself.

“Please!” Nicaise tried harder, arching his back into Laurent’s grip. “You said you love me. I don’t know how else to be worth your love. I make you so sad. Let me make you happy so you don’t-” Nicaise cut himself off but Laurent knew how it ended. ‘So you don’t leave me too.’

Laurent was still shaking his head, unable to stop it, “No, Nicaise, that’s not love. Love doesn't mean happy or sex. It mean it’s worth it. Love makes sacrifices worth it. And this shitty world is made of sacrifices.”

Nicaise changed tactics, “Let me put you above myself. Let me sacrifice for you.”

Laurent’s stomach cramped, much worse then when he’d imagined Damen towering over his body and taking whatever he wished… whatever Laurent had wanted him to wish. He gentled his hands and raised them to his shoulders, not sure if it was to console or restrain. Perhaps both. “I don’t want you to.”

Nicaise shook his head, panicked, “I can make you feel good, you won’t have to be mad anymore.”

Laurent flinched as he heard an echo of his own voice saying that, years prior. He clutched Nicaise to him when he saw the raw hurt on the teenagers face when he reacted like that. Laurent wrapped his arms around him, almost suffocating them both. Laurent couldn’t bear it if Nicaise thought he was disgusted with him. Out of everyone in the world, he was the one who truly understood. “I don’t want you to,” Laurent repeated in his ear. Prayed for this to be over soon. “I don’t want you like that because you’re my brother.” I don’t want anyone like that anymore, Laurent didn’t add. It felt dirty.

Nicaise’s voice broke when he asked, “Then why do you love me if you don’t want me?”

Laurent’s heart broke with it. 

“I love you because you’re my little brother. Because you’re an annoying, mouthy brat that never knows when to shut up before he gets punched in the face. I love you because you’re so smart you tell your teachers when they’re wrong even if your attitude makes them send a letter home. I love you because you used to pretend that you didn’t feed the stray cats with half your dinner in the alleyway behind our house or that you didn’t help Mrs Hennike with her groceries up her million stairs whenever her arthritis acted up. I love you because you used to pretend that you hated my music when we were young but would press your ear to my door whenever I practiced violin to hear me better.

“I love you because you are so kind but smart enough not to show it, so funny you make being vicious come across as charming. I love you because I know you’re so angry at Auguste for leaving us but you’ve never told him so because you know it would break him,” Laurent’s throat tightened. “But, selfishly, I love you most because you still love me, even though I failed you. Even if Uncle has warped that love so that you don’t know how else to show it.”

Nicaise was a shaking mess, bawling like a child into his shoulder. His voice was a croak and a whine, barely held together enough to speak, “Then how do I show you? I don’t know how to show it anymore.”

Laurent ran a shaky hand down his bony spine, tried not to be jealous of how small and thin Nicaise naturally was. This wasn’t the time for such thoughts. “I don’t remember how, either,” then, after a long silence broken only by his brother’s sobs that were muffled by his shoulder, “We could figure it out again together, if you like?”

Nicaise nodded. Or maybe he just shook with misery. Laurent could relate if he didn’t feel so cold inside.

Nicaise ended up crying himself to sleep on Laurent’s shoulder. When Lazar checked on them an hour later Laurent hadn’t moved, relishing in the first kind of touch that didn’t make his skin crawl in years. 

Lazar took one look at them, nodded to himself and closed the door, flicking off the lights as he went. Nicaise clung to him the whole night, whining in his throat if Laurent moved away in his sleep. The bed was small and the child bony. It was worth it though, Laurent thought the next morning as he sipped his coffee. Nicaise had decided to join him for breakfast. It was the first time he’d willingly spent time with him in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> I have no idea where this massive hole is inside of me where I keep finding misery to put in this fic.  
> Please let me know what you thought because I'm worried this chapter was a little risky. I made myself cry when I wrote it...  
> Anyway, this time when I say things are looking up next chapter I really mean it! I've plotted it all out and everything. Hope you continue reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, I bring happiness...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, had a busy day.

Two weeks later and Damen could not stop smiling. Nikandros was starting to threaten to get Damen himself admitted to the hospital because apparently he looks like a loon.

But things were just going so well. 

For some reason Damen couldn’t fathom- Auguste and Laurent had since told him to give up trying to understand- Nicaise had made a complete turn about and was now dining with his brothers for lunch everyday. He’d even made up a clever game to get Laurent to eat, betting his older brother that he could read people better than he did and the loser had to eat a bite of food. 

Nicaise had absolutely no shame in pointing out his victims in a quite obvious manner, “He’s got obsessive compulsive disorder. I saw him scrub his fork with a handkerchief before he started eating.”

Laurent followed the aggressively pointing finger and shook his head, “That doesn’t mean anything. The utensils in this place are disgusting, he more likely just wants to avoid food poisoning.”

“He walked around the cafeteria three times before sitting down in his chair.” Nicaise argued.

“That’s because there were no other free seats aside from our table and no one wants to sit next to us.”

“That’s not true,” Nicaise pouted, “No one wants to sit next to you because you’re mean and boring. I’m a delight to be around.”

Auguste choked on his food. Nicaise glared at him.

They used Damen to figure out if they were right or not; of course, Damen refused to participate in the disrespecting of other patients but apparently his face was too much of an open book. They brothers only had to watch his expression to figure out who was the one to eat a bite of food. It gave Damen the heebeegeebees to be so easily read.

Damen didn’t complain too much about how the game was cruel to the other people around him. Not after when, one time, Laurent had gotten so immersed in the game that he took a bite of his sandwich without thinking as he chose his next victim. Nicaise had lit up like a star when he saw the automatic action, carefully schooling his face by the time Laurent had swallowed and turned back to him with a “The one in the blue dress is fucking one of the guards.”

Damen and Auguste had taken longer to hide their amazed smiles. Laurent had cast them a strange look and shared an eye roll with Nicaise when he caught them grinning dopily at each other. 

Damen had created his own tradition at lunch. He’d wait until Nicaise and Auguste left for their personal sessions before giving Laurent a compliment.

“I like your shoulders,” he’d said last week.

Laurent’s eyes had dropped to Damen’s torso, arching an eyebrow as if to say, ‘Have you seen your own?’

Everyday it was a new one; his eyelashes, his jawline, the stubble he was sporting one of the day he’d forgotten to shave. It didn’t take long for Laurent to cotton on to what Damen was doing and had since started rolling his eyes, long suffering, and flatly saying thanks before scurrying away like it would prevent Damen from seeing the hint of pink on his high cheekbones. 

Auguste had finally excepted taking sleeping pills when Laurent had gone a full night without a night terror. Auguste didn’t need to know that it had been a fluke, he needed to start focusing on himself. 

According to Pallas and Nikandros, Laurent and Nicaise had finally started to respond to therapy if only to ask oddly similar questions about how to show familial affection that was appropriate. Pallas was ecstatic that Nicaise was looking for more appropriate ways to express his feelings. Nikandros was more subdued, trying to explain to Laurent that he couldn’t just relearn this stuff, he had to process everything and rebuild from the beginning. 

Laurent hadn’t been interested in hearing this but it was progress all the same. 

 

 

“Alright! Physical fitness time!” Damen cheered.

Every couple of weeks Damen was allowed to take a few patients with him for physical activities in the field of a nearby school. This was his absolute favourite part of the job, taking his patients outside for a game of footy to enjoy the sun and breathe in the fresh air. This time he’d been able to wrangle the de Vere brothers into joining the group.

“If this is a reward for progress,” Laurent saddled up beside him, tilting his head up lazily to the sun, “I’d much rather go to a library.”

“Nope,” Damen grinned, “I’m just showing you what life has to offer now that you’re not liable to pass out the moment you start running around.”

Laurent’s lip curled in disgust, “I do not run.”

“Come on, Laurent! Physical fitness keeps the heart happy!” Damen tried to persuade.

At this, Laurent cast a lingering look over Damen’s body, catching on his arms that were, for once, displayed now that he’d changed from his work shirt to some work out clothes. Damen tried not to flush. “You must be the happiest man on Earth,” Laurent said, so dryly, Damen wondered if he had imagined the heat in his eyes.

Damen coughed, embarrassed, “I like to think I’m pretty gleeful.”

Laurent made a considering noise before going and sitting down in the shade of a tree. Oh well, Damen hadn’t had high hope for Laurent to play sports anyway. 

Nicaise was a huge surprise though. He was absolutely vicious and would do anything to get the ball, foul or otherwise. He and Auguste made a great team and Damen was ready to concede defeat when Nicaise had fallen into the dirt; he’d immediately wanted no more to do with the game as he’d messed up his pants and planted himself next to Laurent for the rest of the hour.

Nikandros came onto the field to join them in a game, instead of playing referee, when he saw that the playing field was no longer even and Damen, Auguste and Nik had a great time rolling in the mud, chasing after the rubber ball that had gotten slippery as an eel the more dirty it got. Aimeric and Troveld were content to let them duke it out, rather than getting dirty themselves. 

Damen called it a tie when he saw that their hour was up, all of them panting and smiling from exerting themselves.

He’d gone to call back Nicaise and Laurent from the shade so they could go back to the hospital until he saw what they were doing and his heart melted. Nicaise had rested his head in Laurent’s lap and Laurent was very gently, almost reverently, stroking the planes of his face.

“That what they used to do as kids,” Auguste said when he followed his gaze. “We were all forced to go to these galas and balls. Whenever Nicaise started acting up, having too much energy, Laurent would take him someplace quiet and stoke his face until he would lie so still he was practically asleep. Mother thought it sweet but father made them stop because he thought it improper between boys.”

Damen smiled at the two, sitting under the shade of a tree, all pale skin and matching blue eyes. Slowly relearning how to love one another like they once did. “I think it’s beautiful.”

Auguste’s eyes were envious as he watched his brothers, “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, hope you enjoyed this! Let me know what you thought, your comments make my day X  
> Also, I am currently writing a book (a real proper book-it's crazy I know) and was wondering what age group that my writing appeals to... so if you've been enjoying this story and my writing style, please take a moment to comment you're age, it would really help me with my own WIP  
> Thanks! See you next time!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress... and a little bit of angst... whoops, cant help myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I return! I know, I suck, it's been a while but I had to take a break from this fic bc I was going through some things and didn't want to trigger myself with the content of this fic.  
> However, I hope you can forgive me and continue on reading. X

In retrospect, things were going so well the past couple of weeks that they were due for some complications. After all this was a hospital for the sick despite the fact that Damen may have started to forget that he was here for his job, not to become great friends with the de Vere family.

In his defence it was becoming so hard to keep distance between himself and the brothers as he spent breakfasts with Laurent, private sessions with Auguste, lunches with all three and then group therapy at two every afternoon. And things had been going so well!

Laurent, whilst still not eating the recommended amount, had gained back some weight and had started to fill out his clothes (in a rather attractive way, Damen was forced to admit) and now had beautiful colour in his cheeks. Auguste was finally sleeping through the night and was beginning to open up about the fact that he sometimes had flashbacks from the war though he rushed to reassure Damen that he was ‘fine’ and ‘not to worry’ about him. Nicaise was… Nicaise but he showed up to every lunch and participated in the conversation even when Damen asked a sensitive question to air certain topics out. The brothers had started talking to one another on a daily basis, at least when Damen was around to encourage them to reach out.

With all this progress it was only natural for life to try and balance things out again.

It happened during family therapy as Damen liked to call it when all three brothers sat with his to eat lunch and talk. 

“Okay, how’s everyone’s days going so far?” Damen asked as he sat down with two plates of sandwiches, one of which he placed in front of Laurent who half heartedly scowled at him but picked one up to begin nibbling at.

“Well, I spent most of the morning with you so far,” Auguste laughed, “so pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

Damen grinned and bumped knuckles with him to Nicaise’s and Laurent’s evident annoyance.

Nicaise rolled his bright blue eyes, “At least you have someone semi decent to have one on one with,” he complained. Damen didn’t know if he should be pleased that he classified as “semi-decent” to the teen. He supposed it was as much of a compliment he could ever hope to receive from Nicaise. “Pallas is so boring, he always just asked how I feel today and what I want to talk about.”

“Much like Damen just did,” Laurent commented flatly, as he nibbled on his sandwich. “Though I have to agree that Nikandros could do with a refresher course in his training. Perhaps they should go together.”

Damen decided to change the subject, unwilling to comment on his friends work ethics or intelligence, “Okay then! I have a new exercise I want to try today. Laurent, I want you to find three words to describe Auguste, Auguste to describe Nicaise and Nicaise to describe Laurent.”

Laurent rolled his eyes, muttering “cheap trick” under his breath as he knew that this was a quick way to endear the brothers to one another once they heard compliments. Damen only hoped Laurent and Nicaise didn’t start lobbing insults as their words. 

“Auguste, you first,” Damen said, knowing that it was best for the older, kinder brother to set the tone.

“Hmm,” Auguste smiled a little at his youngest brother as he thought. He ticked the words off on his hand, “Smart, devious and sweet.”

Nicaise flushed a little at the praise and blinked down at the table top as if he didn’t know how to react to the affection in Auguste’s tone. Damen let him sit quietly for a few moments, wanting him to register what he was feeling and allow it to be present in his heart without pushing it down. 

Damen sent a reassuring smile in Auguste’s direction when he looked worried at the lack of reaction. “Nicaise, what are words to describe Laurent?” he prompted.

Nicaise looked up and shared a loaded look with Laurent. “Um,” he started obviously still off kilter, “Annoying,” Damen frowned and went to step in before seeing Laurent’s full lips twitch upward in amuement, “antagonising and-” half way through Nicaise’s voice broke in the way all young boy’s voices do but the way he snapped his mouth shut and looked distraught spoke of something darker.

Laurent’s eyes went impossibly soft the way they did sometimes and he reached across the table to touch his little brothers hand. Nicaise clutched back until his knuckles went white, making Damen hope that he wasn’t hurting the older man or himself. They stared at each other for a moment, Laurent’s calm and strong and Nicaise looking like he was looking for refuge in the others matching eyes. Auguste swung a questioning look his way but Damen shook his head, just as confused. 

After a few tense moments Nicaise looked back at the table but kept his hand in Laurent’s. “Kind,” he finished in a whisper.

Damen heard Laurent’s sharp intake of breath only because he was sitting right next to him. Otherwise he didn’t make any comment or expression that he heard the last word.  
“Okay, very good,” Damen encouraged Nicaise, only to be ignored. “Laurent?”

Laurent looked toward his older brother and swallowed. Auguste looked back as if his entire world hung on Laurent’s response. As he opened his mouth, time slowed down as disaster occurred. 

Auguste sudden stood, looking panicked, as he grabbed Nicaise and threw him behind his body, the small boy crying out as his hand was torn from Laurent’s. Just as quickly Auguste launched himself at Troveld, who was passing by the table on his way out of the cafeteria, tackling him down to the ground and retching a butter knife from the older man's grasp before turning towards his neck.

“Nik!” Damen barked, before diving into the fray, attempting to keep Auguste from stabbing Troveld in the throat. It didn’t take long for Nikandros to arrive and help pin Auguste to the floor. It wasn’t made easy though, given how Auguste was surprisingly strong and military trained.

He kept thrashing about, using every manoeuvre he could to wrestle out of their grips and crying out in panic as if he was about to die. He probably thought he was, Damen realised with a cold shudder. 

Suddenly, Laurent was there, pressed against Damen’s side (the closest he’d ever come to him, Damen’s mind provided uselessly) and leant his face over Auguste’s. “Auguste, Auguste!” he spoke loudly over his older brother’s cries. “You’re happy. You’re always so happy. You’re the happiest person I know, the bravest too. You’re so brave,” Auguste stopped fighting their holds and his eyes darted back and forth like he was trying to find where Laurent’s voice was coming from despite him being only a foot away from his face. “And charming. You always charmed the life out of those little old ladies at the galas and the young girls at the balls. Father and Mother worried you’d be a player with those charms but you’re loyal. You’re too loyal.” Auguste’s breathing slowed down and he closed his eyes. “You’re happy and brave and charming and loyal and so many other things, okay?” Laurent bent a bit further down and began to whisper ‘it’s okay’ over and over again. Auguste slowly relaxed until he looked to be almost asleep but his eyes moved rapidly behind his eyes.

“Lo Lo,” he muttered and Laurent flushed, glancing to see if Damen had heard the nickname. Oh, he definitely heard it all right. How cute. 

Pallas helped Troveld to his feet; he looked shaken but fine. Laurent backed up toward Nicaise and tucked to younger boy against his side. Nikandros and Damen helped Auguste back to his bedroom and helped him into bed so he could sleep off the flashback. Auguste took to sleepily muttering sorry over and over again until he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, let me know what you thought! You're comments make my day! x


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